What's Learned From Kids Is Never Expected
by SirVacuumThe3rd
Summary: When John finds out Sherlock has a little friend, who ends up being a part of their life, he never thought their lives would end up like this.


"Sherlock?" John yelled, wandering about the park in search. "Sherlock!" He scanned the area. "Where could he be?" He mumbled, pulling out his phone.

He quickly typed a message to Sherlock, hoping he'd at least reply while it was still light.

_Where r u?_

He sighed and pocketed his phone, deciding he'd take one more trip around the park and then head back to the flat. He started off down to the kid playground, already knowing he wouldn't be there, but checking anyway.

"But how?"

John heard a little kid's voice ask as he rounded the bend, his eyes still looking for Sherlock, but less now that he knew he wouldn't be in kid land. He kept walking past, already heading off to the picnic area of the park.

"By knowing the speed at which it can travel by the number of times it can spin."

John froze, recognizing the voice that had answered the child. He turned around slowly, his gaze pinpointing on the all too familiar voice.

Sherlock.

Sherlock. With a kid.

Sherlock. With a kid. Talking.

Sherlock with a kid talking to him as an equal.

Sherlock.

Kid.

Sherlock.

John stood agape as he saw Sherlock sitting in the grass talking to a little kid, explaining something to him as he would if Einstein was there instead; not talking down to him as he did normally to other people.

"But then why can't it spin more?" The kid asked, his face in obvious confusion. He stared up a Sherlock.

"Because the effect of gravity and velocity will cause it to drop down or keep going without another spin." Sherlock said calmly, watching as the kid tried to process all of it.

John watched as Sherlock kept talking, astonished by the fact that Sherlock could actually interact normally with people other than himself. He smiled, a fuzzy feeling growing inside of him when he saw Sherlock smile widely as it clicked for the boy; his tiny mouth suddenly spewing out happy answers and theories, his brain alight with new information and happiness.

Sherlock laughed at the little kid, the delight on his face evident. The boy stopped talking, still smiling as he caught his breath. He laughed, glancing around the park in amazement. His laughter quieted when he saw John looking at them. He quickly pulled Sherlock's sleeve.

"Who's he?"

"Who?" Sherlock asked, slowly turning to look at John. His eyes widened for a moment, his smile slipping off his face.

"Hey." John waved awkwardly.

Sherlock slipped his smile back on. "Oh, don't worry. That's just John." He smiled and got up, brushing all of the grass off of him. He looked at the little boy. "Tomorrow?"

"No, Mummy is taking me to Nana's house." He frowned. "But tomorrow-morrow sounds fun."

"Tomorrow-morrow it is." Sherlock smiled, then walked over to John, his little friend already dashing home.

"Don't." Sherlock said, looking at John. He picked off a piece of stray grass from his coat, flicking it into the wind.

"Don't what?" John said with a smile.

"Don't try to understand or to talk to me about it." Sherlock said, briskly starting to walk off.

"Hey, hey, hey." John said, catching up. "I'm not saying anything. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." He glanced at Sherlock's face, the relief spreading through it obvious.

"Thanks." Sherlock said, quietly walking back to the flat.

* * *

"So what happens if it goes below that?"

"Well," Sherlock said, holding out an ice cube in front of the boy. "Then all the tiny little molecules stop moving about, causing the water to freeze."

"Woah." The boy said, closely inspecting the ice. He sat back, staring Sherlock in the eye. "So only water can do this?"

"Only water can be in these three forms, yes." Sherlock said, placing the ice cube on the grass in front of them, both watching as it melted.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why does John never sit with us?"

Sherlock smiled. "You tell me. Try to figure it out, Roger. " He turned around and looked at John sitting on the bench a few metres away.

Roger looked at John, his face screwed up in concentration. "He has a book, which means that he knows he'll be here for awhile. He also took the one bench in the sun, meaning he's cold or can't read well in the shade. He also picked the one bench in this area that gives him a clear view of us. But, he can't hear us." He kept staring at John, his mind set on figuring this out.

"What book is he reading?" Sherlock asked him, watching his big eyes move to the book.

"Alice in Wonderland." He smiled. "But it's upside down." He started laughing, making John look up from his book. Sherlock also started laughing, John looking at them with a confused expression on his face.

"John!" Roger called, still smiling widely. "Your book is upside down!"

John looked down at his book, quickly flipping it over and blushing. He looked at Sherlock, who was still smiling at him. John quickly buried his nose back in his book, making Sherlock laugh again.

"Sherlock," Roger said, making Sherlock turn back to him. "How come you never smile with John?" He looked up at him, his face showing how his brain was already trying to figure it out. "You always smile _at_ him with _me_, but when it's only you two, you don't smile." He kept watching Sherlock, his mind trying very hard to sort this out.

"Another day, maybe." Sherlock said, getting up from their spot. "Same time next week?"

"Yessir!" Roger smiled, already forgetting what he had been thinking before. "See you!" He yelled, running off.

Sherlock took his time walking over to John, kicking the grass as he went. He sat down on the bench next to him, quietly watching the place he had just been.

"Sherlock?" John asked, closing the book and looking at him with concern. "Are you alright? You're not as happy as you usually are when you get done talking to Roger."

"I'm fine. Just-just something he said is bothering me."

John smiled. "I'm glad, not enough people in this world are able to bother you."

Sherlock was quiet, his gaze hard on the ground.

"Wow, he really got under you're skin. Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." John said, calmly going back to his book. He half read, half watched Sherlock the rest of the time they were on the bench.

* * *

"But why? Is he not as smart as you?"

"Not a topic for today, especially if John hears us, Roger." Sherlock said, his eyes glancing quickly to John. He smiled at Roger and picked up his microscope. "Ever played with one of these?"

"No. It's a microscope, right?"

"Yes, do you know what it does?"

"No."

Sherlock smiled and placed the microscope down in front of him with a slide next to it. "Try and find out."

"'Kay." Roger said, already engrossed by the object in front of him. Sherlock laughed, leaving him be. He walked over to John, his bare toes loving the feeling of the cool grass.

"Can you believe he's never seen a microscope?" Sherlock said, smiling from the bench at Roger.

John looked up, smiling when he saw Sherlock looking affectionately at the little kid. "Depends on how old he is. If he's five I wouldn't be too surprised, if he's ten, I might be."

"He's seven." Sherlock smiled as he saw him put the slide on the stage.

"He's awfully smart. Where on earth did you meet him?" John asked. The question had been bothering him for some time. Every child knows not to talk to strangers. Every mother knows not to leave their kids in parks without anyone. Sherlock knows how odd it would look if he was seen. It couldn't be some fluke occurrence that they met and became such good friends.

"A case." Sherlock said, his smile fading as he looked down. "It was one that happened before I met you. I was working on a serial killer case, and his mother was... His mother was one of the victims. He had seen him, the killer. Watched it happen right in front of him. I wanted to find the killer so bad, but Roger... When we found him, he clung to me, he wouldn't let go even for LeStrade. I was surprised, because, as you have mentioned before, I'm not very sociable."

John blushed at this. He looked sadly at the excited child in the grass, feeling horrible for him.

"But he kind of shifted something inside of me. Of course he had to go to an orphanage, but- it was odd. He didn't want to leave. He was five at the time, and my high-functioning sociopath ways went out the window for him. Every week I visited him. The lady who ran the place was scared of me at first, my 'uncaring' face, as you call it, would be on until Roger would run at me, and then I'd smile. So we became friends, he made sure from the beginning that I wouldn't treat him like a child or pity him, even though he had no idea what pity was at that time. So I started teaching him what I knew; he had said he'd wanted to learn." Sherlock looked at John with a smile. "So we've been friends ever since."

"Woah." John said, looking at Sherlock.

"Yes, I know. I actually sound_ human_ for once."

"No, no." John said quickly. "It's not that. It's just that that is so not a _Sherlock_ thing to do." He was quiet as they watched Roger figure out the saw him put a leaf on the slide, his face breaking in a bright smile as he looked at it under the microscope.

John broke the silence after a few minutes. "Do you always meet him here each week?"

"Yes, he got adopted last year. I had thought that would be it, but apparently he had told his foster family that he was my friend. They were very insecure at first. They stayed with him for the first few weeks, but they soon realized I was an actual friend of his. We've been meeting in the park each week since then. He comes after school and then goes home for dinner. Sometimes we get two days a week, depending if he has a break in school."

John sat quietly, thinking this over about the different perspective he had gotten of Sherlock. John realized how much Sherlock must care for Roger, so much that he would drop a case for a few hours, even if he could solve it during that time. He smiled, this fond side of Sherlock making him feel honoured to see it.

"Do you want to invite him for dinner one day?" He asked Sherlock, figuring it might be something Sherlock would want.

Sherlock looked at him incredulously, the idea never having crossed his mind before. He smiled widely. "Yes."

* * *

"Do you like it?" Sherlock asked.

"Mm-hmmm!" Roger smiled, taking another bite of lasagna.

John smiled at the two of them. He had cooked the lasagna after Sherlock nearly had a panic attack because he couldn't cook. John had laughed at him scrambling until Sherlock sat down with a huff on the floor and said he should say it was off for the night. John had coaxed him back up with the promise to cook as long as he cleaned the dishes, per usual. Sherlock readily agreed, surprising John by giving him a slight hug before running off to clean up. He was cooking the lasagna when he saw Sherlock clear off the kitchen table of his random body parts. He smiled when he realized how much effort Sherlock was putting into this.

"May I have another piece?"

John was pulled out of his thoughts as he saw Roger look pleadingly at him, his plate cleared of all traces of the piece that had been there before.

He chuckled. "Of course." He slid another piece on from the dish beside him. "Here you go."

"Thank you!" Roger said, excitedly digging into his piece.

John glanced over at Sherlock's plate, his lasagna only halfway eaten. He sighed, trying be happy that at least he ate something.

"Why don't you eat yours?" Roger asked Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at him, wondering if he should answer the truth. He looked doubtful, a little hesitant at telling him.

"Go ahead." John said soothingly, already knowing why he sometimes didn't. Sherlock had told him one day after he had passed out on the floor and John had walked in and found him there. He had insisted on taking him to the hospital but Sherlock refused. He had ended up telling him why that night, after a long period of not talking and disappearing into his mind on the couch.

John watched Sherlock carefully, desperately wanting to grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

"Because I have to throw up if I do." Sherlock said quietly.

John felt proud that Sherlock was able to admit this to Roger. He was most proud when Sherlock had admitted it to him, but he had already assumed what was happening by that point. He had heard the silent heaves, and him being a doctor meant he already had a few logical guesses. He hadn't tried to get Sherlock help, this was something that he couldn't force him to do if he didn't want to. He instead made sure Sherlock kept hydrated and that he gave Sherlock space after meals.

He did the only thing he could do.

Roger got a serious look on his face, his brow knotting up in concern. "Are you going to throw up when I leave?"

"Let's not-" John stared, noticing how tense Sherlock got.

"Yes." Sherlock interrupted him. "I will."

Roger was quiet, thinking it through. He was silent for awhile, staring into space intently. He looked at Sherlock. Then into space. Then back.

"Okay." He said, calmly going back to his food. John glanced at Sherlock and saw the tension ease out of him as he went back to nibbling his lasagna.

* * *

"Ew!" Roger yelled, making a face. "That's icky! Why do you have dead things in your fridge?"

John and Sherlock both looked at each other and shot up at the same time, turning around to see Roger in the kitchen with the fridge door open.

"Cor!" John quickly ran over and shut the door. He smiled in relief when Sherlock came and dragged Roger to the couch.

"It's because I do experiments on them, and they don't stink up the flat if they're frozen."

"What kind of experiments?" Roger asked, sitting down on the couch.

"To see what kind of chemicals or other variables affect the decomposition rate or the physical characteristics of a certain body part."

Roger nodded at him while John looked at Sherlock. He wondered how on earth Roger was able to take this all in stride, it had taken him awhile to get used to the severed fingers next to the milk in the fridge in the morning.

"Why doesn't John come in and sit with us?" Roger asked. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John still standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling at them.

"Because John feels awkward when smarter people in the room are talking." Sherlock said with a teasing smile.

John laughed. "Because," he said, smiling at Sherlock as he walked in. "John knows how much smart people like to hear themselves talk."

"Hey!" Sherlock said, trying to pout at him. "I do not!" Roger laughed at them, his laughter filling the entire flat.

"Oh yes you do." John teased, playfully scooting Sherlock over as he sat down on the couch. "And you know it."

Roger laughed at them, their playful bickering making all of them crack up.

"Sherlock!" They heard Mrs. Hudson yell from downstairs. "Roger's mother is here!"

"Aww." Robert said, reluctantly getting up. "This was fun, Sherlock." He smiled. "And John."

"Do you want us to walk you down?" John asked, starting to get up from his seat.

"No thanks, you two have fun!" He called over his shoulder, his tiny body already halfway down the stairs.

* * *

"Shh," John said, slowly stopping in the dark hall. "Go back to sleep." He whispered before continuing walking.

Sherlock let himself be carried, his head laying comfortably on John's chest. "Sleep?" He murmured, his eyes closing as he nuzzled in closer.

"Mm-hmm." John whispered, placing Sherlock gently in his bed. "Goodnight, Sherlock." He leaned in and kissed his forehead, pushing back Sherlock's hair as he did.

"Mmmm. John?" Sherlock said tiredly, opening his eyes and staring at him.

"Yes?" John asked, looking at him through the shadows.

"Thank you." He said, quickly grabbing John's hand. He smiled, his eyes bright before turning on his side, already falling asleep.

John smiled, slowly releasing his hand and walking out. "You're welcome."

* * *

"And why do they want to go out there?" Roger asked, playing with a piece of grass.

"Because space is a vast area with so little known that it's amazing to know anything about it." Sherlock said with a small smile.

"Can I ever go out there?" Roger asked, his eyes wide with hope.

"Yes." Sherlock smiled, mussing Rogers's hair. "If you want to and you try."

Roger studied Sherlock for a moment, seeing if he was lying.

"Hey John!" He yelled, tilting to see him behind Sherlock. John smiled at him, putting his book down. "Can I be an astronaut?" He yelled, looking at him expectantly.

"Sure!" John yelled back, a small smile on his face. "Why?"

"Because Sherlock says I can't!" He yelled, smiling widely at Sherlock.

"I did not!" Sherlock yelled, quickly turning around to yell at John.

"Fine!" Roger yelled. "But he was thinking it!"

"I was not!"

"Was to!"

"Was not!"

"Was to!"

"Hey!" John yelled, smiling at them. "Knock it off! One mad genius is enough! I don't need two on my hands!" He smiled at them before going back to his book.

"He's awfully nice." Roger said, going back to picking at the grass. "And _he_ thinks I can be an astronaut."

"I think you can be one." Sherlock said, laying down and looking at the clouds.

"Of course you do." Roger said playfully, laying down on the grass also. They stared at the clouds quietly for awhile.

"He's good for you, you know." Roger said after awhile, still looking at the clouds.

"What?!" Sherlock spluttered, looking at Roger surprisingly. "How old are you?!"

"I'm seven, and I still think he's good for you." He said firmly, crossing his arms over his tiny body.

"You're mad." Sherlock muttered, glancing over at John in the corner of his eye. He watched him flip a page in his book, oblivious to their conversation.

"I'm right." Roger said, determined to stand his ground. "Now, why do people think the ice caps are melting?"

* * *

"Sherlock?" John asked, quietly knocking on the bathroom door. He waited for a reply, not hearing anything. "I have some water for you. I'm gonna leave it outside the door. You can drink it when you're ready." He waited again. "I'll be washing the dishes if you need me." He said, starting to turn around.

"...John." He heard Sherlock croak from inside. He turned and looked at the blank door.

"Yes?"

"Can you bring me the water?" He forced out, his voice hoarse.

"Of course." John said, picking up the water. "I'm coming in now." He said, turning the knob and walking in. He stepped into the bathroom, his gaze instantly falling on Sherlock's pale, clammy face leaning against the tub across from the toilet. He silently did a double take, never having thought Sherlock was _this_ sick.

He quickly went over to Sherlock, kneeling down next to him and passing over the water. He placed his hand on Sherlock's forehead, his old doctor ways getting the best of him.

"Don't you dare." Sherlock said darkly, his voice betraying him when it came out scratched. "I don't want your pity."

"Hush." John said, trying not to take the comment to heart. He got a damp cloth and laid it on Sherlock's head, slowly pulling him upright and supporting him on his shoulder. "I'm not pitying you. You know I would never." He started rubbing slow circles in Sherlock's back, trying to comfort him. He wondered how he had ever missed how bad this was before. All of the other numerous times he thought Sherlock was fine. Sure, he knew it was bad and all, not feeding your body is harsh, but he didn't think it was this _bad._

"John..." Sherlock said weakly. He coughed, doubling over as the coughs wracked his body. John held tight to him, letting him dry heave over the toilet. He combed his hands through Sherlock's curls, slowly murmuring sweet nothings in his ear.

"Ugh." Sherlock said, siting back up and leaning on John, his eyes closing in exhaustion. He slumped against him, John carefully wrapping his arms around him. Sherlock started shivering, his body still reacting to his purging.

"Shh," John said, adjusting himself against the tub and wrapping his arms around Sherlock's shivering body. "I'm here. You'll be okay."

Sherlock made no reply, already fast asleep. John sighed, knowing he'd be sore in the morning from sitting, and probably sleeping, against the tub. But, he would never wake Sherlock up, not when he was this weak. He laid his head down against Sherlock's shoulder, determined to keep him safe, and slowly closed his eyes.

* * *

"John?"

"Mmm?" He asked, opening his eyes to Sherlock's face staring at him. He blinked a few times, a bit confused. "Where am I?"

"Bathroom." Sherlock replied, sitting up next to him cross-legged.

"Wha...?" John asked, before it all came flooding back to him. He remembered finding Sherlock on the floor, trying to help, wrapping his arms around his frail body and falling asleep. He closed his eyes and could feel the soreness in his neck.

"You fell asleep." Sherlock stated, watching him closely.

John opened his eyes and sighed, sitting up. He cracked his neck, feeling a bit better, and looked at Sherlock. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Sherlock-"

"Not today, John." He said icily, quickly getting up. He wavered, his vision a bit fuzzy.

"Okay then, another day. Let me at least help you." John said, getting up and helping Sherlock walk to the kitchen. He didn't like the way Sherlock had replied, something was bugging him about it. It was like he_ wanted_ to talk about it, but didn't know _how._

"Thanks." Sherlock murmured, sincerely trying to be nice.

* * *

"Okay, so what if they say they didn't but they actually did?" Roger asked, looking at the pictures in front of him.

"Do you believe them?" Sherlock asked. He had brought one of his old cases, all of the information in a folder, and had told Roger he could solve it.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because this one gambles." He pointed to a picture. "And this one cheats on his wife," he looked at the others. "And you brought me a folder full of criminals; all untrustworthy." Roger huffed, looking at them. "But, if I had to guess..."

Roger stood up, still looking at the posters, but his brain somewhere else. "That woman," he pointed to the blonde one, "had an affair with that man," he pointed to the one with a black mustache. "But her husband didn't like that." Roger looked up, his eyes stopping far away on an unknown point. He got a big smile in his face. "And then! He tried to kill her, with that plastic bag, but the man's wife found out and was trying to kill her too! So she-" he quickly looked up to face Sherlock. "Killed both of them but left her husband out in the middle of nowhere!" He sat down with a huge smile in front of Sherlock. "Am I right?"

Sherlock smiled widely at him. "Yes you are."

"Yay!" Roger yelled, getting up and spinning around. He laughed as he spun, his head thrown back. "John!" He yelled, stopping and looking around dizzily for him.

"Yes?"

"I've solved a case!"

John smiled wide at him, then looked at Sherlock wearing the same smile. "You've become a consulting detective!" He yelled, smiling at both of them. "Just like Sherlock!"

* * *

"Wow." John said, walking into the kitchen. "You two have made a mess in here." He looked at Sherlock and Roger, both of whom were covered in glitter. "Where'd you even get glitter?"

"Sherlock bought some for our experiment." Roger stated, looking back at the table.

John smiled and looked at Sherlock, his eyebrows raised. "What experiment are you doing?"

"We're trying to see if glitter will affect the color of our skin if we leave it on for an hour." Roger said, smiling under his purple sparkles.

"How's it going?"

"Not too good," Roger said, looking at Sherlock. "Sherlock's turning a bit pale under his blue glitter."

"Hmmm." John said, looking at Sherlock. "You're right." He walked over to them and sat down. "You okay, Sherlock?"

"I'm fine." He said, his head down.

"I don't think he is." Roger said, his voice sounding a bit scared.

"Sherlock? Are you sure you're okay?" John asked, moving his head down to see Sherlock's face.

"BOO!" Roger yelled as Sherlock threw glitter in John's face.

"AHH!" John quickly brought his hands up to his face, his fingers slipping over the massive amount of glitter coating his face. "What the-?!"

Sherlock and Roger both started laughing, high-fiving each other across the table.

"What was that for?!" John said, still hunched over and rubbing his eyes.

Sherlock smiled and looked at Roger. "We felt that it was needed for you to play along." He said, a smile on his face. "It was Roger's brilliant idea for me to act ill, and then for us to glitter attack you."

John shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face at their antics. "You guys are insane."

John drew his head up, causing Sherlock and Roger to erupt into a fit of laughter again.

"What?"

"Your face-" Roger said, still laughing.

"It's green." Sherlock finished, sitting there with a smile on his face.

"Lovely." John said, giving up and smiling at them. He put his elbows on the table with his hands holding up his head. "So, how long until these come off?"

* * *

John was sitting on the bench, reading his new book and actually enjoying it. He flipped another page as a shadow came over it, halting his reading. He looked up to see Sherlock standing above him.

"Late?" John asked, patting the seat next to him.

"It seems so." Sherlock replied, sitting down and waiting. He eyed he book. "Is it any good?"

"Actually," John said, closing the book and looking and Sherlock. "It is."

"That's good." He said, staring off into space.

"Yup." John said, watching Sherlock. "So..."

Sherlock was quiet for awhile, staring at the grass. He fidgeted with his fingers, winding and unwinding them. He turned and looked John in the eye. "I want to tell you something."

"Okay, go ahead." John said, turning to give him his full attention.

"I want to actually thank you for helping me. That one night." He said, looking at John sincerely.

"You're welcome," John said slowly, wondering where this was going. He hesitated, watching as Sherlock still fidgeted. "Is there anything else you want to tell me, Sherlock?"

"Yes." He said quietly as he stopped messing with his fingers. He was quiet.

"Yes?" John asked carefully, seeing how difficult this was for him.

"I...wanted to-"

John was silent, letting Sherlock try to find his words. He waited patiently, but he was a little anxious. He tried to appear calm on the outside, but he wanted to know what was bugging Sherlock. He was a tiny bit happy that Sherlock was willing to go through this much trouble to try to tell him something that was clearly important to him.

"-to tell you that..." He looked at John, all of his random emotions playing on his face; a lot confusion, a dash of scared, hope, nervous, angry-

"I have to go." Sherlock said suddenly, hastily shooting up from his seat. His face was hard, like all of his emotions had been grabbed and strangled back into darkness. He stalked off.

"What? Why?" John called after him, standing up and trying to reach out and grab Sherlock's wrist.

"I can't." Sherlock said, quickly walking off and not looking back.

"No." John said, springing up after Sherlock. He caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder.

John turned him around and faced him. Sherlock looked at him with defeat, his shoulders slumped. "Sherlock-"

"I-"

"I don't need your explanation." John said. "I just need you to know I'm here for you, okay? None of this running off without telling me stuff. I want you to be able to trust me." He looked into Sherlock's eyes, pulling him a bit closer.

"Deal?" He asked softly, trying to show Sherlock he meant it.

"I don't-" He looked John in the eyes. "I wan-"

"Sherlock! John!"

They both turned to see Roger running up to them. Sherlock quickly slipped out of John's grasp and stepped back.

"Roger!" Sherlock said, mustering up a smile.

"Hey guys!" Roger said happily. He smiled before he stopped just short of them with an odd look.

John got his head together enough to ask, "Is something wrong?"

"You guys..." Roger said, looking back and forth between them slowly. "...are having problems." He looked at Sherlock. "You're standing a little bit hunched and turned away from John, while he is trying to look at you but give you space at the same time." He bit his lip in concentration, his little thinking brain hard at work. He stood there looking at them for a minute, trying to figure it out. "Is this how all adults act?"

John smiled at that, watching Sherlock smile also. "No," he said. "Not at all."

"Okay."

John smiled at him before walking back to his bench, letting Sherlock and Roger talk and have their time together.

Roger walked closer to Sherlock, both of them heading to their normal spot in the grass.

"Sherlock?" Roger asked, looking up at him.

"Yes?"

"When I grow up, will I be able to have a friend like John?"

Sherlock looked over at John, a smile tugging at his lips. "I hope so."

* * *

"Sherlock! Do you want some dinner?"

"No. Why do you insist on asking?"

"Just in case you change your mind one day."

"I'm still not eating any."

"Okay."

* * *

"Why haven't you kissed him yet?" Roger asked, sitting under his umbrella on his coat. He was looking down at his wellingtons, trying to appear casual.

Sherlock stared at him, his mouth hanging open. "What...?"

"I'm almost eight, not blind." He smiled at him. "Besides, I learned how to tell from you. Remember? You taught me how to spot an affair or one about to happen."

Sherlock sighed. "Yes, I did."

"Good, because I need to go." Roger stood up, smiling down at Sherlock. "I'm sorry to take your umbrella. But," he stuck out his tongue. "I have to take your umbrella!" He laughed, before running away down the wet grass.

"Hey!" Sherlock yelled, smiling at his tiny retreating figure. "Not fair!" He stood up in the rain, the rain hammering down on him.

"When have you ever believed in fair?" John said with a smile, putting his umbrella over both of them.

Sherlock smiled at him. "Never."

* * *

"Sherlock?" John asked, carefully crouching down in front of the couch. "Are you crying?"

Sherlock's gaze quickly darted to his, a small gasp escaping. "Am I?" He asked softly, raising a hand to his face. He wiped a tear off and stared at it, a confused expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" John asked, slowly taking Sherlock's hands in his. He waited for Sherlock as he kept staring at the tears.

"...Roger." He choked out, his face pale and blank. "He moved." He slipped one hand out of John's and wiped another tear off of his face. "He's gone, John. Gone." He stared at John with a lost look.

John stared back, feeling the tears in his eyes also trying to force their way out. Roger was more than a friend to them, he had become an honorary 221B Baker Street resident. He was family in a sense. Having that uprooted in an instant without a goodbye was enough of an emotional turmoil to affect Sherlock. _Especially_ Sherlock. The one who had been there for him during everything; when his Mum died, when he lived in the orphanage, when he went to a new family. Roger would miss Sherlock and Sherlock would miss Roger. Simple.

"Don't worry." John said, trying to find a way to comfort Sherlock. "He'll write you, you two can chat on mobiles or over the net. You can visit each other during holidays." He smiled sadly at him, taking his hands again. "Don't worry. We'll get through this. I promise."

"You don't know!" Sherlock snapped angrily, getting up quickly and pacing the flat. "He knew me!" He yelled, his fists clenched at his sides. "He saw the best in me and helped me! He showed me I could be happy, have fun, all of the things I have never known!" He banged his fist against the wall. "He showed me that I could love people!" He yelled, staring straight at John.

Sherlock was quiet, his chest still heaving as he stared angrily at John, all of his emotions fighting inside of him until he thought he would explode. He slid down to the floor, burying his head in his hands. He was quiet as John stared at him.

John looked at him; slumped over and defeated. He slowly stood up and walked over to Sherlock, sitting down next to him without a sound. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him into an embrace, kissing the top of his head in silent comfort.

* * *

"John?"

"Hmm?" John asked, looking up from his book on his bench. It had been awhile since they were able to return to the park without feeling overly depressed and nostalgic, but it had soon become a happy remembrance place after the weeks had passed by.

"We've gotten a letter from Roger again." He said, smiling at him before sitting down next to John on the bench. John smiled, always happy when Roger wrote them. He slipped his arm around Sherlock's waist as Sherlock opened the letter, both of them leaning in to read it.

_Dear Sherlock and John,_

_ Hi! How are you guys? Thank you so much for sending me those cases! I've solved all of them, except for the seventh, which gave me a bit of trouble with the scuba diver and Pope. My answers and deductions with reasonings are on another page with this letter. Anyways, thanks for the presents! I loved them! I didn't think you'd actually send me anything for my tenth birthday, but they were amazing. I use the microscope everyday, Sherlock! Have you seen what peanut butter and jam sandwiches look like under it?! It's amazing. And thanks John for the brilliant book about different types of diseases and injuries, I've learned so much! Mummy says that I can stay at your place during summer break! I've missed London so much! But I'm very excited to be coming for a few days this spring! Are you sure you still want me to be your best man, Sherlock? I don't know how these things work and I have the feeling best men aren't normally ten year olds, but I don't think you know any more than I do. We should ask John. But, I'll do it anyway, just because I want to keep learning and being afraid is what makes it fun!_

_ Mummy says it's time for me to go, I miss you guys! See you in three weeks!_

_ - Roger_

_P.S. Does Sherlock have a ring? I will make fun of him the entire time I'm down there if he has have a big shiny diamond one! Ta! _


End file.
